Leave it to Jinart!
by tanyart
Summary: Quick little scenes told from Jinart’s POV during the novel, Republic Commando: Hard Contact by Karen Traviss. Humorvignettes Enjoy.
1. Part 1

Disclaimer: Star Wars genre and mentioned characters all belong to their respected owners. I own nothing except the story idea for this fic.

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Part One: p. 46

I am merely a substance, waiting to take a defining shape. The following contour of my body molded, it shifted. It was nothing. Shape shifting came to me as easy as breathing.

Currently, I was taking the form of a gdan. Harmless creatures, really. They were never meant to be overestimated. However, while it was easy to take form as a gdan, it was simply another problem to blend in as one.

There was a pack nearby, trailing curiously after a silver clad soldier. A commando. I remembered a conversation with Valaqil concerning them. So… was this how we were going to strike up a deal with the Republic? The concept of 'if we help them and they will help us' was most unreliable. However, I was in no position to complain. We were desperate.

Most of the gdans took nibbles at the clone's armor, trying to determine if he was eatable or not. The clone itself was gallantly putting up with them. He shined his headlight, hoping that they would scatter. Fat chance, they kept right on nipping at him. I slowly edged closer, willing the small creatures not to be alarmed by my alien scent. I had to get a closer look. This was my first time seeing a clone personally. I mingled in, following their example and found myself staring at a pair of giant boots. …Tough.

Shape shifting 101: To blend in is to mimic others.

With much hesitance as I would've liked to display, I bit into the clone's boot. It wasn't the taste I was worried about. Shape shifting was merely taking on the appearance of other thing. I didn't actually develop taste buds. Thank the Force.

But honestly, this was humiliating. Valaqil would be laughing.

I gnawed, not knowing what else to do. Just like taste buds, the eyes of my gdan form weren't eyes at all. I studied the clone, taking in his professional movements. I felt his slight anxiety and wondering what was the cause of it, I focused on his mind.

Well… first of all, he was annoyed at this one gdan who was persistently nibbling on his boot even though his fellows have long darted away.

Stupid gdan…

…Oh.

I stopped nibbling and tilted my gdan head up just in time to see the butt of the clone's rifle ram into my head.

"Come on," the soldier said irritably, "I've got to get to work. Shove off."

He nudged me again, not caring where the butt of his riffle landed about my body. Too dazed from the first blow to comprehend what he said, I stared stupidly at him. I got the feeling that he stared right back. Blue multiple glowing T-shaped figures wavered in my vision. I finally backed off and trotted away, giving the clone a cool glare.

Which was pretty hard to achieve as a gdan. Nevertheless, I hoped I made some sort of impression.

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I love it when they R+R... -cough- 


	2. Part 2

**Disclaimer:** Star Wars genre and mentioned characters all belong to their respected owners. I own nothing except the story idea for this fic. 

shade: Thanks! It's good to find another reader of Hard Contact. Can't wait for Triple Zero to come out!  
Tripleguess: Actually, this was continued from quite a while ago. I've been posting it up on another site and I guess I sorta forgot about this one... 8P

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**Part Two:** p. 78-81

Clones were pretty much humans after all.

Take RC-1136 for instance…

I had been trailing him from a distance for some time. Fortunately, he was a bit easier to track than his other squad mates. However, I didn't want to lose him until I made sure that he was heading in the right direction.

Watching him, I was intrigue. Maybe it was the fact that he was being deprived of sleep, food, and company, but he did have his amusing quirks. His mind constantly worried over his squad and then of all things, uj cake. ADD much? Possibly. Sometimes being a telepathic was just downright annoying. I could read his thoughts like an open book. Normally, it would take some effort on my part. I don't know how he did it, but the clone was thinking way too loud.

It took me a while to figure out why.

Meanwhile, I let my liquid form slide over the broken remote. It was a bit of a blunder on my part. Thirty minutes earlier I had taken the shape of a giant four-winged bird. Darman- the clone- had been constantly whittling his nerves away. Being sympathetic, I came up with a brilliant, but certainly foolish, plan. Once I figured out what the remote did, I thought… 'Perhaps if I relayed images of the his Omega squad.. maybe he'd feel more reassured.'

Genius, Jinart! Absolutely brilliant.

I mean, how stupid could I get?

Without thinking, I snatched the remote within my beak. Admittedly, if the remote had been a bit bigger, I could have held on to it.

But I didn't. I swallowed it._ Opps_.

End of story, I don't think I need to explain any further.

"I hope it gives you gutache, you scumbag!"

Oh _shut up_, Darman.

**o0o**

Minutes later, after hacking up a piece of technology, I was back after Darman. I watched him with interest as he had his lunch that consisted of a tiny white cube. I couldn't help but feel pity for the clone. He was in bad shape. Physically exhausted, sleep deprived, and hungry. That wasn't the best combination around.

"Come on, soldier, haul it up," Darman said. He suddenly snapped to attention… or tried too. "Sir!"

… I decided to add 'delusional' to the combination as well.

He made a great conversationalist with himself. I listened to his thoughts. Boy, the clone could really think up a storm. It was a good thing that he had his voice-filtering helmet on. Now that would have really been a concerning spectacle (despite the fact that it realty didn't matter in the end. He was talking to himself; I was just glad that I couldn't actually hear it.)

I followed him with caution, observing his movements. It was amazing how careful and in tuned he was with his surroundings. Every once in a while I snapped a twig just to alert him. Every time, the clone would drop to the ground and raise his rifle. Good, I was keeping him alert and awake.

Plus, it was sort of fun.

_Snap!_

Oh, and down he goes again. Cute.

I found us nearing an ideal resting point. I needed to alert Etain and have her meet up with the clone at the stream. I paused to consider the situation. Should I reveal myself to Darman? Another command from his invisible commander and his shout of "Yes sir!" made me discard the idea. I didn't know if clones were capable of getting strung up. The last thing I wanted was to be shot on sight.

The next best thing was to play mind games. I needed Darman to rest up so that Etain could reach him before he left this spot. Taking the form of a patch of moss, I reached into Darman's mind, coxing him to sit down. After a few tries, I finally got him to do just that.

_"You're hours ahead. Stop. No sleep makes you careless. You can't afford to be careless."_

I saw Darman agreeing to the logical reason and start to disassemble himself. I expected the clone to doze off right away, but no. He spent an extra twenty minutes setting up a makeshift wall, washing in the stream, and collecting a few dead bugs that caught his eye. Curious as any kid.

I shifted into my liquid form, seeping away. I felt Darman jerk up from his edgy state of half sleep. Enough was enough. What would get this clone to relax? After spending hours with him and his thoughts, I knew the answer.

_"Get some sleep. You're going to need it, son."_

Darman's invisible commander was not so invisible after all.

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R and R, luvs. 


	3. Part 3

**AN:** This is the third and final vignette. I apologize for the ridiculous year-long delay, but this chapter was sitting in my computer ever since March of last year. It wanted out. Perhaps when I find time to reread Hard Contact, I'll get back on it.

Thank you readers and reviewers, it has been a pleasure.

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**Part Three:** p. 87-88

I stood in the middle of a vast field, keeping a careful watch out for Omega squad (minus Darman). It was getting incredibly hard for me to keep on making runs between them, Darman, and Etain. Matters didn't improve once I found out that I had lost all track of Niner, Fi, and Atin all together.

However, I didn't despair too much. The problem was simple enough to fix. All I had to do was to get into a position between the last place I marked them at to their initial destination point. Since it was basically all open plains, there was a good chance I might be able to spot Omega squad on their way. To give me more height advantage, I fitted my form into a large tree with autumn leaves.

It turned out that I didn't have to wait long at all. A speeder zoomed pass me and out popped Omega squad in the distance. There was a quick scuffle with the expected outcome. The pilot of the speeder was now sporting a smoking hole in the head, courtesy of Omega's sniper.

All at once, I made out three armored figures. One of them was having a field day with the speeder's onboard computer. By the way their heads bobbed slightly every so often, I could tell that they were discussing their next move. I didn't need to read their minds. Apparently, the one messing with the speeder needed more time and the leader was obliged to give it to him. With simple hand gestures, he directed the idle member to stand watch near the hacker while he jerked his head towards my direction.

You have _got_ be kidding me.

After some time, the squad leader made his way over to me and took a seat. Oh, for the love of-! He was sitting right between my branches. Not implying anything dirty, but it didn't feel good to be sat on either way.

I suppressed the urge to shake him off. I wasn't exactly rooted down like a real tree, you know. Without anything but a small twitch of a leaf, I patiently bore his weight and studied his features. I briefly touched his mind to identify the soldier.

Oh-ho…. So it was _him_ again. That same clone who gave me a good clunk of the head with his DC-17. Why am I not surprised? He unconsciously hates me. Niner, was it?

We sat together all cozy like. Of course, the commando had no clue that he was sitting on a tree-shaped Gurlanin. I had to congratulate myself though. If I could fool the guy for this long, I could do anything. The minutes seem to have elongated and not a single thing happened. Sure enough, Niner didn't budge from his spot either. If trees were capable of shifting uncomfortably, I would've done so.

"Anything happening Sarge? Still swinging?" That was Fi over the private com. Charmer.

"Yeah. We could always wait until they die of liver failure. Save the ammo," Niner replied.

That had better be sarcasm. I listened to the commandos talk, trying to keep my branches from wavering.

"You okay?" Fi asked.

"My bladder's a bit full, but fine otherwise."

Woah, time out. Holding up a grown man with full armor on was one thing; being urinated on by one was definitely another.

_Ah… fierfek._

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End vignettets. 


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